Chapter 7 - Ethan Had Asked Me to Start a Family Too
The memory became unbearable once I allowed myself to examine it.
Three months before the wedding reception, Ethan and I were in bed.
Nothing dramatic.
Sunday morning.
Coffee on the nightstand.
He placed one hand over mine and said:
“After the wedding, let’s stop waiting.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
Children.
We had discussed them for years.
Not obsessively.
But seriously.
I smiled.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“We’re already exhausted.”
“We’ll be exhausted parents.”
I laughed.
He kissed my forehead.
At the time, the moment felt intimate.
Now I knew Savannah was already pregnant with twins.
Probably visibly so.
Ethan knew two sons were coming.
And still asked me to begin trying for another baby.
Why?
That question replaced almost everything else.
I demanded an answer.
He resisted.
Then finally admitted the truth in therapy—not couples therapy, because I had no intention of repairing the marriage, but a structured separation session with both attorneys agreeing it might reduce conflict.
“I was scared.”
I stared.
“Of what?”
“That Savannah and I wouldn’t work.”
There it was.
He had wanted insurance.
Not financial.
Emotional.
Family.
If Savannah became impossible, he wanted me.
If I discovered the affair, he wanted Savannah.
If the twins created a new family successfully, he would leave.
If not, perhaps he could still remain married.
“You wanted both doors open.”
“Yes.”
His eyes filled.
I felt no sympathy.
Then he said something worse.
“I loved you.”
I almost stood.
The therapist stopped neither of us.
Good.
I said:
“Do not use love as evidence that your choices weren’t what they were.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That I loved you and still did this.”
That was harder.
Because I believed him.
Love does not automatically make people honest.
Sometimes people love and still betray.
The myth that only loveless marriages contain deception makes betrayal harder to understand.
Ethan continued.
“I kept thinking I would reach a moment where the right future became obvious.”
“But instead you kept making both futures more real.”
He nodded.
Court marriage with me.
IVF with Savannah.
Wedding reception with me.
Twins with Savannah.
Baby plans with me.
Napa? No, different story. Here no.
Every new step made withdrawal more damaging.
So he delayed.
Until he could no longer.
Then he chose the most brutal exit possible.
Public certainty.
He believed spectacle could accomplish what courage had not.
I looked at him.
“You didn’t become trapped between two women.”
His face tightened.
May you like
“You trapped two women inside two different promises.”
That was the sentence he could not answer.
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